The Truth about Cats and Dogs

Growing up, I was always a "dog person," although that might be an incorrect description of myself.  What is more likely true is that my parents were "dog people," so that label applied to me because of their choices in pets.  I had two dogs growing up...but that's a story for another day.
When I moved into my first little studio apartment in the Highlands, a friend contacted me to ask if I'd consider keeping her cat for a couple of months.  They were moving into an apartment for a short period of time and couldn't take their cat along.  I agreed, not knowing exactly what I was getting myself into.  (Side information:  friend has two small children at this time).
Little did I know that Cleo the cat was not spayed.  When she went into heat, I got little to no sleep.  I had fallen in love with her, and I couldn't tolerate this one week out of the month.  I had decided to tell my friend to find some other place for her cat.  She was planning on bringing the kids to visit Cleo...I'd tell her then.
Fast forward to the visit.  Cleo either sat in my lap or hid under the bed the whole time the kids were there.  She had grown so used to the quiet at my house.  Just as I was going to tell my friend, she suggested that I keep Cleo and that she and her family would adopt another cat when they could.  I was more than happy with this suggestion.  I called a vet as soon as they left and made an appointment that would change my life forever.  I became a "cat person."
I had Cleo put down on November 2, 2010.  This little cat, born March 9, 1997, adopted by me in 1999, became my lesson on how to love something so unconditionally.  My mother, who at one time was not a fan of cats at all, grew to love Cleo in ways she may not ever admit to.  I could tell, though, the way she finally came to play with my beautiful little girl.
So that is how the transformation took place.

Make it real.

If people cannot be honest about how they feel or what they are going through in our churches today, then why should we expect them to come to church?  Life is messy.  Let's quit acting like people aren't hurting in very real ways.  Don't want to know the answer to how someone is feeling?  Don't ask.  And please, show them that you care some other day than Sunday.  They may appreciate it.

Sinners and Saints

Six months and five days after my father's death, I have had a day where I have not felt like the world is closing in on me.  The past six months have been a crisis of faith for me.  I have been so close to just letting go of what I believe to be true.  So much centers around watching crises unfold around me...watching Christian people behave badly.  Why is it that we run from the world....from those who are supposed to behave badly because it's their nature...yet we cannot seem to do right ourselves?

Seeing Red

I know I live in a "basketball state."  But lately, basketball just isn't doing it for me.  Don't get me wrong.  I LOVE my team.  And I like basketball ALOT.  However, I'm overwhelmed with a desire to watch boys in pads make pancakes out of each other. 

Last night, I went to U of L's open football practice.  Here's proof.

 We may be picked to finish 7th in the Big East.  As far as I'm concerned, that just gives us something to fight for...to be better than what is expected.  GO CARDS!

Saying what you mean and meaning what you say

I think that sometimes people don't say things, or maybe aren't honest about their feelings, because they don't want to hurt someone.  I'm usually on the opposite side of that fence because I say things, often without thinking, and then it either comes out wrong or it's just too blunt.  And that hurts too.  I guess I struggle with thinking about what I say and how it will affect someone.  But what if the things that are left unsaid hurt just as much as what is said? 

Jesus on a telephone pole

The divine in vines?  I just hope no one gets electrocuted if they decide to go on pilgrimage.  An atheist discovered this image in Littleton, Co. 

Go your own way

If you've known me for any length of time, you know that my dad passed away in February.  He had heart problems for as long as I could remember.  He fought a galliant battle against cancer the last couple of years of his life.  The irony was that the medication he had taken for so many years to protect his heart and to fight the cancer caused his liver and kidneys to fail in the long run.  The very things we thought would kill him....well...didn't, at least not straightaway. 

I remember thinking, after that initial moment of finding out he was gone, that the first couple of weeks after his death were almost too easy.  I guess the shock was just too great.  There was a lot of company and casseroles.  For that, I will be forever grateful.  After a couple of weeks, the anger set in.  I don't even really know who I was mad at.  I don't think my anger was directed toward anyone in particular.  It was just more of a general anger because my dad was taken away from me.  I vaguely remember people asking me how I was doing and thinking, "How in the heck do you think I'm doing?  My dad is dead."  It seems like a few well-intentioned folks have no idea that anger is a part of the process of healing from a loss of this magnitude.  Even some of my own family expressed some sort of concern over the fact that I was mad.  How unfortunate that people don't realize the toll a loss can take on someone.  I didn't want to feel the anger.  It was just there.  I may not have always handled it properly.  I'm not really sure who should get an apology from me...these days were a fog...but rest assured that I am sorry if I responded to anyone in a way that may have offended.

The third stage of grief is bargaining.  I don't think I went through this phase.  My dad had struggled for so long that, while I would love for him to still be here, I am at peace with where he is.  I'm relieved that he's whole again.  God took him to heaven to make him well.  But the underlying depression/anger is still there.  Most days, I feel a void.  It's like I'm just going through the motions.  I feel alone.  Now is when the company would be nice. 

There is a Bible verse from Daniel that keeps me looking forward.  Daniel 12:13 says, "As for you, go your way till the end.  You will rest, and at the end of the days you will rise to receive your allotted inheritance." 
I then shall live.

Your brain is a comic book tattoo

I've always loved to sing.  I come from a long line of people who love to sing.  That may be a bit of an exaggeration; however, I know that music was important for both of my grandmothers.   I remember sitting at my Mammaw Strader's feet as she played the hymns she loved.  Those moments were priceless. 

In my last blog, I spoke of Anna Graceman and her big voice.  I thnk I failed to mention that she WRITES her original stuff.  Impressive.  But here is a group of kids that is impressively talented as well.  To me, they are a testimony of why music MUST be in our school programs.  The kids have not only covered Tori Amos, they've MET her.  I'll be so bold as to say that sometimes I like their covers better than the original!  Mr. B, their teacher, has an amazing way of connecting the children to music, giving them a voice in the process.

PS22 chorus has gone viral at my house.  And if you don't like them, even just a little bit, check your wallet.  You may be a card-carrying nazi.

My faith in tomorrow is restored.

I'm boycotting my radio.  Really just not all that interested in most of the music I'm hearing these days.  It all sounds eerily....alike.  Most of the music I'm enjoying these days has no mainstream outlet in my area.  Or I'm hearing stuff that I like from children.  And with that, My faith in tomorrow is restored.

I first heard Anna Graceman on America's Got Talent a few weeks ago.  I NEVER watch that show, but family was in.  She FLOORED me with an Alicia Keys cover.  I'm sure I made a face when I heard that little bit announced.  I mean she's around 10 years old.  Didn't think she'd do it all that well, but kid's got some pipes.